


Rather a Bed Hog than Dead

by OverHillAndUnderTree



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader Insert, Self Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 12:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4564422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverHillAndUnderTree/pseuds/OverHillAndUnderTree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on an imagine from http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com<br/>"Imagine sharing a bed with Thorin and finding out he's a complete bed hog"</p><p>Aftermath of BOTFA (Thorin, Fili and Kili survive, as per many of our headcanons!)<br/>Thorin begins sneaking off during the night, and your curious nature gets the better of you! What you find, however, is not entirely as sinister or worrying as you'd expected...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rather a Bed Hog than Dead

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever Fluff self-insert, goodness gracious! My mind just automatically finds routes to smut while I'm writing, so it was difficult to ignore the urges but I feel I did well!  
> I would love to continue this story with a nice bit of smut, but do you all think I should continue this passage with some smut or leave it unsullied?  
> x

[Imagine sharing a bed with Thorin and finding out he's a complete bed hog.](http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/126516129774/imagine-sharing-a-bed-with-thorin-and-finding-out)

The losses suffered after the battle against the orc legions were insurmountable. No Dwarf, Elf nor man looked upon the fields of dead without grief.  
The company of Thorin Oakenshield, however, could at the very least say that they all had returned to Erebor in one piece; in body and in mind. Their injuries were great, and though makeshift wards were set up within the vast halls to treat the gravely injured, the passage to the proper bedding chambers was completely blocked by stone. The other, closer chambers were all charred from dragonfire, and though the beds were of great need, no Dwarf felt the ability to stomach the sight of dragonfire. The possibility of stumbling upon the dusted remains of their kin was, also, of great concern. Death's toll had brought quite enough grief without such a sight.  
The wounded Elves (those not beyond saving, of course) were brought back to Rivendell as Thranduil, for all his damned pride, would not have them rest in the accursed mountain that had been the root of this destruction. No, he wanted his kin far from the sickness and foul air of the place.  
The men of Laketown were given riches enough to rebuild Laketown, but during the transition, most stayed on mats on the cold stone floors of Erebor. The forges were lit once more, however, and no man, woman, nor child found themselves cold while dwelling in the mountain.

Your back ached from sleeping on the ground, and the rest of your company grumbled many of the same complaints as their aching wounds met the harsh marble. "Lads," you'd said gently one evening as Oin, Nori and Ori were kicking up a particular fuss about the lack of beds, "think of the poor souls lying face down outside these walls. I am sure they would give all the gold in this mountain thrice over for the chance to sleep uncomfortably on a stone floor, if it meant they might live." As you began to weep softly, so did their grumbling and groaning cease.  
"Well said, (y/n)." you heard Thorin's voice behind you and felt a gentle hand upon your shoulder. You dried your tears and smiled at him; a reassuring smile.

Thorin had begun to disappear during the night, when everyone was asleep. So riddled were you with exhaustion that you could barely hold your eyes open, let alone inquire into his whereabouts.  
The company assumed he wandered the halls, reminiscing, or grieving. They knew by his mild temper during the day that he was not up all night staring at his gold or plagued by Dragon Sickness any longer, so they thought best to leave him to his grief, for he had much of it to bear. When he was ready to be comforted by laughter and cheer and song, you would be there for him, all of you.  
On one particular night, after a particularly difficult day of mending the great dining hall, attempting to prepare for some form of celebration to honour the dead, you found yourself talking with Thorin well into the night as the others slept.

"I dreamt, one night, I was sleeping aback a cloud, floating above Lothlorien. That didn't last long of course; Bombur's foot ended up in my face!" you chuckled, and Thorin laughed heartily. It was a gorgeous sound, and it echoed loud and long through the halls. "I'd forgotten how he kicks out in his sleep. How did you make the grave error of keeping your head within range of his beastly foot?" he was still sniggering as he asked, the thought of you being startled awake by Bombur's large, hairy feet amusing him to no end.  
"If I weren't so delighted to hear the sound of your laughter, Thorin, I would give you a good thrashing." you smiled, punching his arm harmlessly. The two of you sat side by side, backs against the wall in a dimly lit corridor. You could faintly hear the sounds of snoring from down the hall, where Dwarves lay sleeping on the floor in one of the vast empty store rooms.  
You leaned your head back against the wall and shut your eyes, still smiling. "I am so very glad you overcame that dreadful bout of sickness."  
"As am I, lass. As am I." you felt his hand rest upon yours for a moment and dared not open your eyes, for you felt they might betray your heart fluttering a storm in your chest. His hand remained there for quite some time as you remained with your eyes closed, trying to seem as though you were sleeping. You're sure he must have noticed your breath falter, however, as you felt his beard scratch the side of your jaw briefly before his lips were pressed against your cheek.  
"I am going to sleep now. Goodnight, Amrâlimê"

You heard his footsteps treading lightly away from where you sat, and you couldn't settle your racing heart. You were utterly dazed by what he'd said, but... why were his footsteps going away from the sleeping quarters if his intentions were to sleep?  
Any and all chances of you falling asleep were well and truly crushed by the butterflies in your stomach, but you tried not to think about that utterly mind boggling moment as you slid open one eyelid, seeing Thorin's back as he made a right turn at the end of the lantern-lit corridor.

Rising silently to your feet, you thanked your lack of boots for it only proved to make you more agile and less noisy as you followed Thorin down the long halls of Erebor. You began to feel scared and almost considered calling out to Thorin as he wandered down a particularly dark passage, one that had not yet been lit or seemingly traversed since Smaug's vanquishing.  
You were terrified of losing sight of Thorin as you could scarcely remember the way back down the hallways, blindly following him without a hint of navigation or sense. You were following him for what felt like half an hour before your uneasiness turned into dread. What dark secret lay at the end of this passage? What was so dreadful that Thorin would hide from you and the company?  
Finally, a small beacon of light appeared out of a room on the left. He turned into it and you waited at the door frame, peering inside just enough to see that it was a regular chamber. The light from the lantern inside allowed you to see quite a bit of rock and rubble down the corridor past it. Was this, perhaps, the first chamber of a hallway, just barely cut off from the rubble?

You dared poke your head around the door, and you saw Thorin sitting at the end of a small, yet cushioned and comfortable looking bed. He was removing his boots as he raised his head and saw you. Confusion ran across his expression and he seemed lost for words, only able to stutter out your name.  
You fell to your knees with relief in the doorway and bellowed with laughter, gripping your sides as giddy tears formed in the corners of your eyes.

"Thorin Oakenshield! Sulking away in the middle of the night in secrecy. I thought perhaps if I followed you, I would find some ancient secret or great treasure hoard, but alas, the King Under the Mountain merely seeks the comfort of a soft mattress!" you chortled, and as silly as you knew you must have looked, it was the first time you'd relaxed since the battle and all of your built up tension was being released.  
"You followed me?" he grunted. "These tunnels are pitch dark, you fool! You could've been lost! I know these halls like the back of my hands," he stood, enraged and not a bit amused by your outburst, "yet you have barely scratched the surface of this place! If you were lost, (y/n), you would not find your way back before your starvation."  
You stared at him from the floor, still unable to hold in your giggles, which frustrated him more. "I am deadly serious! Why did you not call for me?"  
You stopped giggling then. You weren't actually sure why you didn't just call him and ask where he was going.

"Why did you keep the only damned bed in the place a secret? I think that's the more relevant question here, _Milord_ "  
He grimaced, sitting down on the end of the bed.  
"Do not tell the others about it, (y/n). This room is the only peace I get from the worried gazes and the strain of this reconstruction. I found it while I was roaming the halls one night, it is the only bed chamber I have been able to reach without clearing rubble or finding scorch marks."  
You rose to your feet, feeling pity for your King. "Allow me one night on the mattress, Thorin, and you have my silence." you uttered simply, grinning. "Refuse me, however, and Bombur will be the first I tell! Let's see you enjoy that mattress after he lays in it for a night."  
You both chuckled at that; poor Bombur was often the butt of your jokes. "Not to mention the Hobbit. I believe he longs for a soft bed more than any here." he laughed gently.

"I agree to your terms, you devious wench of a Dwarrow" he scowled, playful, feigned malice in his voice. His eyebrow rose then, suddenly.  
"You could not find your way back to tell the rest of the company about this room even if you wanted to!" he realised aloud, pointing a triumphant finger at you, and you raised your hands in mock surrender.  
"You've got me there. Is chivalry so lost? You would deny this poor frail lady a night of blissful sleep?" you placed a dramatic hand to your forehead, causing him to chuckle once more.  
"I've fought frailer orcs than you, mad one! You are no frail lady" he teased.  
You crossed your arms and leaned your back against the wall, noticing that he had still not sat back down on the bed.

He must have seen your eyes darting deviously towards the bed as you both jumped for the small single bed at the same time, a tangle of limbs as you both broke into heaps of laughter.  
"Get off, oaf! You've spent enough nights in here!" you laughed, pushing his chest in an attempt to move him from the bed, but he would not budge. He grabbed your hips and tried to push you off, but you grabbed his elbows firmly and had pushed him onto his back. Your knees were either side of his legs, holding on for dear life as he kept his playful hold of your wrists, trying to shove you off. He attempted to get you to release your grip, letting go of your wrists to tickle your under arms fiercely. This only proved to fuel your laughter as you dropped your head onto his chest, tucking your arms underneath you in an attempt to stop him from tickling you.  
As your laughter wore off, you suddenly remembered his words to you as you feigned slumber in the hallway, and a blush instantly appeared across your cheeks as you looked up at him from where you lay on his chest.  
Noticing this, he released you but you still knelt on him, your stubborness to remain in the bed far outweighing your embarrassment.  
Grabbing your hips once again, and startling out of your scarlet daze, he moved himself onto his side, leaving just enough room to maneuvre you in front of him so that your back was to him. This was his silent compromise.  
"I feel like I'm going to fall off" you whispered, and he cleared his throat before placing a wary arm around your waist, resting snugly on your stomach. "Is that better?" he asked awkwardly.  
"Much" you assured him.  
"...Thorin?" you asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Hmm?" he merely replied.  
"If I don't tell the others - about this room, I mean - could we, perhaps, sleep like this every night?" you stammered quietly, almost as if you didn't want him to hear you.  
"Is the bed that comfy?" he inquired, a hopeful tone to his voice that you assumed he had tried, feebly, to conceal.  
"Well, it's not so much the bed, really." you were thankful you had your back to him as you turned your face into the pillow to allow your blush to pass quickly.  
"Oh, I see." was all he said, but he hugged you tighter to him. "In that case, yes, I believe a deal could be struck."  
You laughed softly, and he could feel your quickened heartbeat through your stomach, so prominent was it. "It is no deal, Thorin." you whispered. "More of a promise."  
He thought upon that for a moment before humming in agreement. "That sounds more fitting, a promise."

"The company will wonder where we slink off to, though. They may start forming theories" you mentioned.  
Thorin huffed, his 'pfft' causing the hairs on the back of your neck to rustle softly. "Let them wonder. What harm is it?"  
"That their King sneaks off into the night with a low-born, nameless Dwarrow?" you murmured, and immediately he turned you to face him, cupping your face in his hands.  
"Do not speak so poorly of yourself." he said sternly, his brow narrowed in annoyance with you. "You are (y/n). You are the Dwarrowdam who stayed by my side through thick and thin, the one who snapped me to my senses when all else failed. Do you not see-" he cut himself short, removing his hands from your cheeks.  
"Do I not see what?" you leaned up on your elbow so that you could clearly see his face. "Continue, Thorin. Please" you pleaded.  
"Do you not see how much I care for you?" he said softly, his voice almost strained. His expression softened but his brows still furrowed, as if he were trying to teach an Ent to speak quickly.

You felt that the only appropriate response to this was to kiss his cheek in return for earlier. "Never have mere words made me feel such joy. You have truly broken me, Thorin Oakenshield."  
The lump in your throat had risen dangerously and tears began spilling down your cheeks without warning. A large hand cradled the back of your head into his chest as he lay on his back once more.  
You sobbed into his chest for quite some time, gripping the soft fabric of his tunic as a nervous child with its mother. Despite his gentle hushing sounds and soft humming, you could not hold back your tears. Eventually, your body succumbed to exhaustion and you slipped into your dreams listening to Thorin humming and feeling the vibrations in your ear as your head lay upon him.  
Thorin most certainly took up most of the bed, as you would imagine, however you had no problems with clutching onto him closely, as though all the treasure in all the world lay within his chest.


End file.
